Overshot
by Perspex13
Summary: "Frankly, we should've expected something like this. When we're together, Beckett, we're just too damn good. We just overshot a little." Beckett and Castle do things a little too well. Post-series.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Overshot

Rating: T

Timeline: Post-series

Summary: "Frankly, we should've expected something like this. When we're together, Beckett, we're just too damn good. We just overshot a little." Beckett and Castle do things a little too well. Post-series.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.

A/N: A few notes:

1\. I tagged this Humor & Fantasy because there's no category for 'Irredeemable Nonsense & Wishful Thinking.' But Fantasy is appropriate, and I'm hoping for a few chuckles on the way.

2\. I appreciate this is a risky topic, so what follows is meant in good fun.

3\. I've offended my own sensibilities, too, while trying to touch all the bases with this one. Remember, this is just fiction.

* * *

 **November**

"This is all your fault," Beckett growls, staring at her husband in shocked disbelief. "We wouldn't be in this situation if you could just control yourself!"

Castle's defensive options are limited, since they both know she's right. "It's not like you were uninvolved," he tests, cringing at her look of fierce disbelief. Right – not the time to bring that up, he thinks. Holding his hands up in a vain effort to calm her, he avoids making any sudden movements, all too aware of her training and likely reactions. "And look, it's not really that big of a deal…"

" _Not that big of a deal_?!" Beckett nearly shrieks, causing them both to cringe at the pitch.

"Just a bump on the road," Castle stumbles, reaching for words to mollify his wife but grasping only bland platitudes and hackneyed clichés. "Just a temporary situation. It'll be fun, right?" he asks, flinching. "Just a short detour before we get back to our plan."

"I was supposed to be a _Senator_ , Castle!" she replies.

"So, you're finally admitting Simon was right?" he asks, hoping the return to an old debate between them will reinvigorate her or help restore her usual equilibrium.

But instead, her anger and fear fall away together, leaving only dismay. "I don't think I can do this."

"You'll be perfect, Beckett," he assures her, risking his mortality by approaching and drawing her close. Blessedly, she comes willingly into the cove of his arms, seeking a temporary respite within his encircling strength. She needs this now, and probably for the next several years, at least.

"It's not really a change in our plan," he whispers to his wife as he holds her tight and nuzzles her hair. "Frankly, we should've expected something like this. When we're together, Beckett, we're just too damn good. This is no different. We just overshot a little," he minimizes with a shrug, finally securing a fragile, exasperated laugh.

"Besides," he adds, unable to control himself. "We were talking about moving into a bigger place, right?"

* * *

 **Previously**

It started as a joke.

Castle had been doing the talk-show circuit again, which proved to be unimaginably taxing. While most shows were light and airy, there were so many touchy subjects – his disappearance, his short-term separation from Beckett, their near-deaths in the loft, his deviation from the Heat series to try something more serious – that he'd been a bundle of nerves preparing for any question that might stray into a minefield. As a result, he developed a tendency to wax loquaciously on safer topics.

It wasn't the hostess' fault. Maya was actually an old friend, someone with whom Castle had spoken many times over the years, always in a professional capacity. There was no romantic history between them, not even the frisson of unrequited tension. He'd mentioned it to Beckett before the interview, about how he was looking forward to that show amidst all the others that his agent Paula had scheduled just because he could feel safe to let his guard down a bit.

They should've known that would lead to disaster.

The first bit had gone okay – gone well, even. Castle started the interview more relaxed than his other visits, and his friend Maya kept the questions focused on his professional works. It wasn't a light interview, since she'd pushed him on multi-book arcs and comparative character developments in his series and standalones, paying particular attention to gender-based conflict and growth. Castle'd appreciated the chance to speak meaningfully about his books and reveled in the topic.

Things went sideways when Maya expanded the scope of the interview.

"So, Rick," she said with a bright smile, "I understand your daughter will be finishing college soon."

"That's right," Castle beamed, never shy about his pride in Alexis. "Look out, world, my daughter will be running the place soon!"

"Always fun to see a proud papa," Maya replied, encouraged and affirmed by some smitten applause from the studio audience. "So, she's going into politics, then?"

"Absolutely not," Castle laughed in reply. "Well, perhaps I shouldn't be so sure. I don't know what she'll do. I only know that whatever it is, she'll do it well."

"That's sweet," Maya offered, "and true, from what I hear. But that was quite an initial reaction, Rick. Your long-time friendship with the mayor of New York City is well known, so I'm a little surprised to hear such an aversion to politics from you."

"I've been exceptionally fortunate," Castle said, building into his answer while taking the hostess and audience with him. "My career flourished and allowed me to visit readers all over the world. I love the travel, I love talking to new people," he said as he worked the audience and the camera by drawing them in. "And I love coming back home. This city, this country – we have the most unbelievable collection of people. All nationalities, all professions, all jumbled together into a vibrant mosaic that provides the most fertile ground for good stories, good friends, and good lives that I can imagine."

Only because she knew him did Maya not interrupt. Perhaps it would've been better if she had.

"So, when you ask about politics, I'm torn," he confessed. "Here we are, surrounded by all these remarkable people, all this talent, all this history, and yet when it comes to electing a leader we're left with these two candidates as our choices?" he'd said in deep dismay. "How did it come to this?"

"Not a fan of our options?" Maya asked, on the trail of an interesting conversation.

"Seriously? How could I be?" Castle had asked, honestly flummoxed. "Do I pick the outsider, the outclassed bully who doesn't have a clue about how to interact with anyone in a way that doesn't involve hate, ignorance, or measuring this size of his… ego?" he asked, not coincidentally while he gestured with his large hands. "Or do I pick the insider who's shown a chronic inability to stay free of questionable ethical quandaries, who points in whatever direction the political winds blow? Is this _really_ the best we could do?"

"Perhaps," Maya had suggested, providing one last conversational exit ramp, "you should vote for your friend Mayor Weldon."

"Bob would be excellent, obviously, and certainly better than either of the candidates," Castle agreed before he hit the accelerator and sped down the road to disaster. "But the obvious choice is my wife, Kate."

"Aha!" Maya laughed. "We've already seen the proud father, and now we get to see the proud husband?"

"How could I not be proud?" Castle asked, which had endeared him to the audience anew. "But I'm serious – Kate's a perfect candidate, and not just in relation to our official choices."

Maya had adopted a skeptical look in order to challenge Castle's hyperbole. "Really? Give me an example."

" _Easy_ ," Castle replied, and his wide smile, gleeful expression, and rubbed hands clearly conveyed his enthusiasm. "How often have you heard people complaining about all the crooks in Washington? Anyone?" he'd asked in turning to the audience for ready and loud support. "What has either candidate actually done? But, Kate – Kate marched right into the capitol and arrested a corrupt Senator on the spot. There was no negotiating, no bargaining, no 'you need to respect the dignity of his position' – it was ' _turn off the cameras, you're going to prison_.'"

"Except they didn't turn off the cameras," Maya reminded the audience. Proving that she'd been prepared for the many directions this interview could've proceeded, Maya had the studio play a clip of Beckett's arrest of Bracken. It wasn't new footage, but it was a powerful reminder of corruption in Washington.

"Impressive," Maya concluded after the clip. "A good example."

"But not the only one," Castle crowed, happy with this line of discussion. "Does your Programming Director have any footage of Vulcan Simmons?" he asked. Satisfied when Simmons' image flits up on the studio monitors after only a few moments, Castle stood and walked to the monitor. "Mr. Simmons was murdered in an attempt to frame my wife. Do you know why it was a promising attempt?" he asked the audience, pausing to await an answer and build suspense. "Because she'd _thrown him through a window_ during one of their earlier meetings," he laughed, embellishing happily. "Do you think Putin's gonna intimidate Kate after she tossed _this guy_? Plus, Kate speaks Russian – he couldn't even say anything impolitic without her knowing about it."

"Well," Maya answered, her concern that this interview might spiral out of control starting to show, "it's certainly true that neither established candidate can speak Russian. Or toss people through windows."

"Exactly!" Castle laughed, joined by the studio audience. "And nerves – you wanna talk nerves?" he asked rhetorically, gleefully. "My wife stood on a live bomb for _eight hours_ – eight hours! One move, one twitch, and Boom!" he said and clapped his hands, startling many (including Maya), "Goodbye Beckett, goodbye apartment building, goodbye city block. If she didn't flinch then, do you think she'd flinch when dealing with Iran or North Korea? _Please_ ," he said dismissively, emphasized with an eye roll he learned from his wife.

"Your wife is obviously a brave woman," Maya said, starting her efforts to shut down this discussion. "But she doesn't have any experience in politics, does she?"

"That's a plus in my book," Castle replied glibly, winning more support from the audience. "Besides, my wife built a successful career hunting the worst kinds of criminals, people who are so unimaginably evil that I tone them down for my books. How is that not 'experience' for interacting with members of Congress?"

"I'm not sure our elected representatives would appreciate the comparison," Maya mugged for the audience and earned some laughter of her own. "This has been an interesting discussion," Maya replied, dropping the pretense of ending this conversation with subtlety. "But perhaps we can…," she trailed off, startled by the noises of discontent from the studio audience. Surprised, she acceded to the crowd and turned back to Castle. "Okay, Rick, then let's pursue this. Any other examples?"

"Just one more," he answered, growing more somber. "Another reason I get frustrated with politics, why many people do, I think, is a lack of resolve. How many times have we heard our leaders promise action on something only to have the issue fade away with no change?" Murmured agreement bubbled up from the audience, diffused and subdued in following Castle's mood. "I'm not a rube. I know there are shifting agendas and opportunities, and sometimes great ideas can be stifled by a lack of consensus. But sometimes," he continued, again looking around the audience and connecting with several individuals, "it seems more like expediency, more like a lack of resolve. Why do we accept that?"

When no one, not even Maya, answered, Castle turned back to the audience and let his voice grow low and urgent. "If resolve is something that matters to you, think about this: my wife got shot _in the heart_ by a sniper while speaking at a funeral. She was back and hunting her shooter three months later," he said, using his painful memories from that horrible time to drive home his point. "So: coming back from open-heart surgery or summer recess on Cape Cod – which do you think shows more resolve?"

"The press coverage of your wife's shooting said that you were the only one who saw the sniper before he fired," Maya replied, addressing Castle while providing more information to a studio audience that probably didn't expect to be swimming in deep political intrigue. "If I remember correctly," she added kindly, while the studio monitor changed to display the _New York Times_ article on the shooting, "you threw yourself forward and almost prevented her injury."

"Almost…," Castle trailed off, looking briefly haunted. Then, as he remembered where he was and who he was talking to, he tried to cheer himself and get back on point. "Clearly, once Kate's elected, I won't be displacing any Secret Service agents."

Maya laughed gamely, tried to use this segue to move the conversation to happier ground. "So, Rick, would you be your wife's running mate?"

" _Me_?!" he laughed. "I think I'm better positioned for speechwriter and First Husband," he speculated with a laugh. "If she'll hire me – for the speechwriting, not the husbanding! She spent the first four years I knew her trying to get rid of me, so maybe I need to be careful. Although…," he trailed off, lost in thought about something that amused him.

"Share, Rick," Maya encouraged.

"I was just thinking," he laughed again. "I'd need to convince her to appoint me to some position that required confirmation hearings. Can you imagine, with my past?" he chuckled. "That would be fantastic theater. We need to make that happen – people might actually tune in to CSPAN _on purpose_!" he chortled.

"If not you, then who?" Maya asked, chuckling about his joke. "Come on, Rick, we're building a ticket here. You need a VP candidate, too."

"Well," Castle speculated, tapping on his chin. "Kate's a Castle, right? At least by marriage. And the strongest Castles have Gates."

"Sorry?" Maya asked, confused.

"I don't know if we could get her, but Victoria Gates would be perfect," Castle explained. "She's a Deputy Commissioner at One Police Plaza. Yes, that's her," Castle confirmed as the Programming Manager again impressed with an ability to provide a picture on the monitor. "She came up through Internal Affairs – you want somebody tough but fair to keep things running smoothly? That's DC Gates."

"An all-female ticket?" Maya asked, failing to hide her delight.

"Why not?" Castle replied happily. "About time we try to fix things, right?" That comment cemented his favor with the audience.

"So, Rick," Maya asked, closing the interview as their time began to run short, "how much trouble are you going to be in tonight when your wife finds out that you volunteered her for a presidential campaign?"

"No more than usual," Castle laughed with a shrug. "We've always said we want to keep our marriage interesting, and I think this qualifies!"

"You think she'd go along with it?" Maya asked shrewdly. "Be a shame for reality to dent this grand political revolution of yours?"

"Maya," Castle stage-whispered while leaning toward her, "I convinced her to marry me. That signed her up for much more trouble than she'd face as president. If the interest is there," he'd said, with a secret smile that suggested perhaps a private meaning to his comment, "I'm sure I could get her to run."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.

* * *

 **November**

"Is it bad," Beckett asks, "that I kinda hope we'll lose?"

"One of the most amazing aspects of the last few, crazy months," Castle answers with a smile in his voice, "is that I've gotten to see nervous Kate again. She doesn't appear often, but she's adorable when she does."

" _Castle_ …," she whines in reply.

"We'll be fine," Castle answers with certainty, "whether you stay at the precinct or move on to greater things. But I need to make one thing clear," he says in growing more serious. Beckett cocks her head in curiosity, raising an eyebrow as he releases her and steps back to hold her at arm's length. "This time, if you head to DC, I'm going with you."

Huffing and swatting his shoulder, Beckett lets Castle catch her hand and lead her back up the stairs into the thrumming activity of their campaign headquarters. At least they were smart enough to set up shop at the Old Haunt, so there's already a bar and a generous (though diminishing) supply of alcohol.

Castle's installed several large, flat-screen TVs that are all tuned to different channels. The main screen is blessedly free of vapid talking heads, washed up politicos, or Washington hangers-on. Instead, it pulls in a website's map of the US, tracking electoral votes as they roll in. It's still early, so only the East Coast has any shading, and the current ambiguity leaves the states a mottled mess.

DC Gates, too, looks a bit of a mottled mess. Though she's trying valiantly to retain her cool demeanor, anyone who knows her can see she's looking green. Escorted by her sister, it looks like they're going to step out to claim some composure, too. With no words and a knowing smile, Castle dangles the key to the Haunt's office for the ladies.

While her sister claims the key, Gates stops in front of Castle and looks up at him. "I should _never_ have let you back in the precinct. That one small change and _none_ of this would be happening right now."

"What fun would that be?" Castle cracks in reply, leaving Beckett and Gates' sister gaping at his decision to joke even now. "Plus, you would've missed my sunny disposition and insightful counsel along the way."

Gates gives him an odd look before shocking everyone and wrapping him in a tight, unexpected embrace. "I'm only giving you a hug," she says, loud enough to be heard by the other ladies, "because it's as close as the courts will let me come to strangling you."

Realizing that they've collected some attention from others in campaign HQ, they separate. Her sister moves back in position to escort Gates downstairs, leaving Castle and Beckett with a brief window before they're surrounded by friends, family, and staff.

"You're never gonna stop pushing your luck with her, are you?" Beckett asks with a perched brow, happy that he's once again managed to create a situation that's helped her cheer up and refocus.

"We're gonna win, Beckett," he says, nodding toward the TV screens. "And just wait until you hear the Secret Service code name I've got in mind for her!"

* * *

 **Previously**

Maya's interview with Castle attracted a lot of attention, especially at 1PP. DC Gates, curious about why her secretary was giggling, wandered over and found herself watching the streaming replay of Castle's interview over her secretary's shoulder. She took an early lunch and drove back to the Twelfth, where she, yet again, had a private chat with Kate Beckett about her husband's antics. Only after the initial outburst did Gates pause to let Beckett watch the interview. Had she watched it alone, Beckett might've appreciated her husband's steadfast belief in her, especially following their difficulties from the Loksat case. But watching the stream while Gates watched her was a mortifying experience for which she later extracted her revenge on her husband many times over.

The first Beckett/Gates campaign sign appeared online only hours after Castle's interview, with several copies appearing throughout the Twelfth precinct. Some creative soul had arranged the names artfully over the image of a castle, providing a visual tie to the comment about 'strong castles needing gates.' While Beckett suspected Ryan and Esposito, they must've had accomplices as the signs continued to appear even after she sent the boys to Rikers on a task that could've gone to others. She tried to discreetly remove the signs, but they seemed to multiply faster than she could manage. After two days, she was seriously considering banning them altogether, but her husband went nearly apoplectic, quickly pulling out a reference book to use the banning of a Quibbler article as an example of how such a move would backfire.

Gates fared no better at 1PP, as she was sure to let Beckett know. While it was a good joke there, too, Gates grew nervous about the contemplative look she'd occasionally catch in the eyes of her bosses. At first she thought it was envy, or perhaps anger. But it was worse than that – at least some were wondering if such a thing could happen, and what it might mean for the stature and status of the NYPD if not themselves, personally. She certainly seemed to have more friends than she realized, an unusual situation for someone coming out of IA.

Still, the Beckett/Gates ticket should've been a joke, a blip on the pop culture radar. And it would have been, if not for the poor decisions of the actual, nominated candidates. It started slowly, with the leak of hacked information that embarrassed the insider. But even before the outsider could gloat, he found himself mired in embarrassing fraud litigation.

Then, at the outset of an otherwise calm summer, the pace and variety of the disasters increased. Inquires. Leaked tax records. A hilariously disastrous 'debate' that served only to give the rest of the world a chortle. Head-scratching trips to foreign countries. Rumored indictments. Embarrassing relatives.

It was the constancy of the disappointment that was really to blame. Every time political supporters of either candidate took a breath and thought the most embarrassing developments were _finally_ behind them, their preferred candidate would find a new way to disappoint. By late July, many were desperate for an electoral alarm clock, wishing they could hit the snooze button and awaken to better choices four years down the road.

A small but dedicated online community leapt at the opportunity created by the melancholic dissatisfaction. Forming after Castle's interview with Maya and staffed largely by the fans of Castle's books (of which the Nikki Heat fans were a particularly zealous lot), this group became quietly effective at reintroducing the Beckett/Gates ticket, but as a legitimate alternative rather than a joke.

In an ironic twist that delighted Castle then and will only embolden him now, it was _Page Six_ that galvanized the ticket. Feeling remorseful for how much trouble his interview with Maya caused, Castle took Beckett and Gates out to lunch to apologize. _Page Six_ ran pictures from their outing and speculated that it was a deep strategy session for announcing an official candidacy.

Before Castle could have Paula quell the rumors, the final actors in this strange drama had their say. Leadership members from both mainstream political parties reached out to Beckett and Castle, fearful that a 'joke' candidacy would divert votes to the benefit of their rivals. Had they simply stated their cases or politely requested that the run be disavowed, perhaps things would've gone differently. Instead, fate was sealed when each party made differing fatal mistakes. One tried to co-opt Beckett, promising a prestigious appointed position so long as she threw her support behind their nominated candidate, warning her (in mellifluous language) that she'd have to learn how to compromise if she was going to survive in DC. The other demanded that Beckett stand down, going so far as to note that there was no political party for 'washed up, hack writers using their spouses to claw their way back into the spotlight.'

Castle chortled to himself throughout both meetings, shaking his head at their folly. One representative reminded Kate of what she hated most about her time at the AG's office, while the other had the audacity to tell her that she couldn't do something. He was tempted to present each of them with a red flag to waive in front of his wife.

Castle learned later that he was wrong. While both of those comments offended his wife, Beckett credited the insult to Castle for her decision to finally step forward and embrace her supporters. She gave interviews. She participated in online forums and AMAs. She even visited some talk shows, sometimes with Castle and sometimes without. After two weeks, the NYPD suggested she take a leave of absence. A week later found Victoria Gates cautiously venturing out to a few events.

They were all surprised by the motley group of vocal supporters that materialized around them. New York City was obviously a strong area of support, especially with Bob Weldon's endorsement (which had the added benefit of weakening both of their opponents). Police precincts rallied around the ticket, enamored of the idea of putting an officer in the Oval Office (the thin blue line apparently extending even to cover IA personnel). Sports fans got a kick out of Joe Torre's stumping (secured both on the basis of his friendship with Castle as well as his family's deep connections to the NYPD). And while Castle would've very much preferred to avoid his endorsement, Eric Vaughn's word carried weight with the financial community.

More surprising was the support from the other side of the country. Natalie Rhodes, working art films to rebuild her career, was a vocal advocate. Cynics claimed that she spoke up in an attempt to reclaim the spotlight, but she spoke eloquently and passionately about the rare opportunity to put a young woman in a leadership position. Meredith's efforts were far more transparent, but still effective. Despite her obvious interest in securing a tenuous connection to power, her efforts to mobilize support and donations proved surprisingly effective. Even Gene Simmons got into the act, encouraging the candidates to use anything from his catalog as a soundtrack for their efforts.

They knew their candidacy was getting traction when the attack pieces started. After his publishing career, Castle was somewhat prepared for the assault. Beckett, however, was much more accustomed to privacy, unamused by second-guessing and her Aunt Theresa's penchant for posting these stories on her Facebook page.

The first shot was too quick off the mark, questioning whether a candidate who 'failed out of Stanford' had the mental acuity necessary to be Commander-in-Chief. Not only did they not need to reply, but Castle sent the writer a fruit basket to thank him for prompting a flood of positive stories about the young woman who changed schools and careers to seek justice for her mother. The pieces focusing on Beckett's suspensions got a little more traction, but were embraced examples of her resolve to do what was right even in the face of sanction. Gates was in a unique position to deliver that message and never looked more comfortable behind a microphone than she did while describing Beckett's willingness to follow her own moral compass.

Despite all of this, their run shouldn't have gone anywhere. But two attack pieces invigorated support, and both involved Castle.

The first dilemma arose when bits of Alexis' kidnapping story leaked. The article painted Castle as a vigilante, a pampered, rich man-child who abused his connections and overestimated his abilities in trying to act the hero. The reaction to the story, however, was mixed; while some were concerned about Castle's actions, most were impressed by the father's devotion to his daughter, and a few thought it was a very Storm-like thing to do. At a press conference to address the issue, Castle had fun explaining to the assembled masses that the State Department was well aware of the events that transpired to secure Alexis' freedom in Paris, and that, coincidentally, the insider candidate had been Secretary of State at the time. "I'm sure there are emails from the State Department that could clear this up," Castle trolled the press. "Oh, wait…"

The more painful press conference arose when an intrepid reporter ferreted out the existence and significance of Rogan O'Leary. That revelation opened a door to many names and relationships that both Beckett and Castle would've preferred remained private. Their advisors recommended a steady diet of "no comments," but Beckett shocked everyone by calling for a press conference when new names arose, including those who were rumored to have been responsible for Beckett and Castle separating before their first anniversary.

In almost clinically succinct manner, Beckett alluded to an ongoing investigation and described how she feared for the lives of her husband and his family, ultimately reaching the heart-rending decision to cut ties to keep them safe. "I was wrong," she stated baldly to the assembled media, but really using the conference as an opportunity to apologize again to her husband. "The case is classified and we'll not discuss specifics, but I will say this: we only made progress when we were together."

"We're all here," she reminded the media, "because my husband launched our campaign months ago. Without asking," she added with a stern look, prompting some chuckles.

"We're _also_ all here," she continued, "because of concerns about our private lives. That's classified, too, and we'll not discuss specifics," she repeated the structure of her earlier comments, sounding fierce, "but I will say this: we found our way to each other in our own way, in our own time. I wouldn't be here without him. I wouldn't be alive without him. And I won't do this without him. Consider that when you cast your vote. Good evening."

"Close your mouth," Beckett teased Castle as they left the stage for the relative privacy of the prep room. "You can't really be surprised. You shadowed me as a detective and you shadowed me as a captain. This is our thing now, right?"

"Yeah, but…," Castle struggled, still amazed by how his wife handled the press conference. "I thought I'd have to fight," he explained, running a hand through his hair. "Argue. Cajole," he continued, look moving from shocked to provocative. "Convince. Persuade. _Entice_ ," he growled as he prowled toward her.

"Oh, Good Lord," Gates interjected, reminding them both that she's still there. "Can you two at least wait until you get into the car?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.

* * *

 **November**

"Holding up alright, yeah?" Hayley asks as she delivers a drink to each of them, woefully but appropriately non-alcoholic.

"I must've been insane," Beckett replies out of the corner of her mouth while keeping a smile in place for anyone looking for her reaction to the current status of the vote count.

"It's not just you," Hayley replies, laughing when Beckett cuts a look at Castle. "Not Rick," she clarifies. "It's this whole bloody system you have here. Your electoral college that isn't a college, your voters who cast their lots for the oddest reasons – it all seems a bit mental."

"True," Castle replies, nodding sagely. "Next thing you know, we'll be voting to leave a politico-economic union or something."

"Not funny," Hayley replies, stung by the reminder. "But, now that you mention it," she adds with a wicked smile, "Kate, you need to do something about NAFTA once you're elected."

"NAFTA?" Beckett asks, worried that even now she's being quizzed about different leadership issues. "What do we need to do about _NAFTA_?"

"Nothing, really," Hayley answers with a smile. "I just want to meet Justin Trudeau. He's cute. And Canadian."

"Canadian?" Castle asks, until he notices Beckett nodding at Hayley. "Cute?"

"Sure," Hayley answers. "I love Canadians – so pleasant, kind, and polite. And _cute_ ," she adds again, looking dreamy.

"And married," Castle harrumphs, getting a laugh and a kiss on the cheek from his wife.

"Don't worry, Castle. If we need to head north, we'll go when it's cold," she whispers in his ear. "Take an extra day to bundle up in a cozy cabin somewhere…"

"Hey," Ryan interrupts as he joins their group, because his timing _still_ hasn't improved, "isn't that the Lisa woman you were telling us about?" he asks, nodding toward the television screen.

* * *

 **Previously**

Even with their friends, their support, and their resources, the Beckett/Gates ticket shouldn't have been more than a historical footnote, the answer to a trivia question designed to stump all but the most devoted political groupies. But the political landscape shattered in September.

The first seismic shock emanated from Minnesota, an overlooked flyover state characterized by its two seasons: winter and mosquito. At a political rally, the passions raised by the outsider's supporters and opponents turned violent. Unlike several other places where this happened, though, the pushing and shoving that started outside the venue forced its way inside. Bystanders who were jostled turned to push back on whoever was nearby, the hostility spreading and multiplying. Like a bar-room brawl writ large, fists started flying with little regard for sides or alliances, many consumed simply by the urge to throw down.

The candidate wasn't initially concerned by this development, standing to watch the melee despite his handlers' efforts to escort him off the premises. Starting too late, they found their route cut off by the surging crowd. While trying take shelter behind his handlers, the candidate was knocked off his feet, landing hard. He crawled away from the crowd seeking shelter, crouching behind his chief of staff with hairpiece askew and looking terrified.

By itself, this would've been an embarrassment, not a disaster. But a student's cell phone photo of the cowering candidate included a young girl in the foreground, laughing. Whether she was laughing at the outsider or not wasn't clear, but the damage was done. The world saw the candidate of harsh words and bullying posture trembling beside a laughing young child.

The insider's campaign had only started its gleeful use of this event when the second shock arrived in the form of a federal indictment for the insider's alleged influence peddling. Efforts to pivot from offense to defense were torn asunder by the release of hacked documents that not only supported the claim but linked other members of the insider's family and staff to the scheme.

With both nominated candidates in free-fall, the leadership of the political parties who had seen the Beckett/Gates ticket as a threat instead turned to them looking for salvation. Shameless in their approach to court new candidates, neither party was surprised when their request for a meeting was granted. They were surprised, however, to discover that Beckett and Gates agreed to meet with them at the same time.

"What's _Jason_ doing here?" the attractive blonde woman asked as she entered the Haunt and saw the bald man who held her position in the opposing party.

"He's here for the same reason you are," Gates answered tersely, returning to her seat after greeting their guest. While she waited for Beckett and Castle to make their greeting and take their seats, she added: "He's no more happy to see you here, I don't imagine."

"I was under the impression you were taking this election seriously," Jason said testily. "But if you're talking with Lisa, that clearly can't be the case."

Lisa began to reply, but thought better of it. Instead, she turned to her hosts and went directly into her pitch. "You need help and you need support. We can provide you with both."

Jason rolled his eyes, but Beckett ignored him. "I'd like an example of the type of help you can provide."

"Like this meeting," Lisa replied quickly. "You should have staff here – a chief of staff, clearly, but a press secretary, a legislative affairs officer, an issues advisor. We can provide seasoned veterans in each of those roles."

"As can my party," Jason added. "And mine are available now, no need to wait for parole."

"Really?" Lisa answered, turning in annoyance to her rival. " _You're_ going to talk about prison time? That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"This is all very attractive," Gates interjected in a tone of voice Castle remembered well from the precinct. "I can see the appeal of signing up."

"You act like this is optional," Jason tried, turning to Gates and Beckett. "But Lisa was right about one thing," he admitted while cutting a look at her. " _Only_ one thing. You need guidance. Doing this meeting without your staff just shows your… lack of experience."

Gates and Beckett exchanged a look, communicating without words. Gates had shrugged and gestured toward their guests.

"You seem to think this is a seller's market," Beckett began, turning to face Jason and Lisa in turn. "But we've made it this far without you and we're looking pretty good in comparison to your candidates. Neither of you would be here if you weren't desperate to rehabilitate the embarrassment of your failures. So stop telling us what we _need_ to do and tell us what you have to offer. But keep this in mind: we already have a deep bench. Between our friends, 'guys' my husband knows, and insiders thrilled with the chance to work outside the established structure, we're well-staffed and not beholden to either party."

Unaccustomed to being dressed down by political greenhorns, Jason and Lisa shared a look that spoke volumes about their lack of comfort with this situation.

"You're public servants. Unionized," Jason jumped in to speak first. "Our party's candidate always carries the unions. They alone could give you the election."

"But you're law enforcement," Lisa countered before Beckett or Gates could reply. "Uniquely positioned to understand the complexity of Second Amendment issues and protections. Why would you join the party that threatens your right to own your personal weapons?"

"Gun control?" Jason spewed in reply. "You're playing the gun control card? What about family values? He's on his third marriage, she her second. You're telling me your party's religious base would accept them?"

"And yours would? They're _cops_!" Lisa replied hotly. "Your constituency is built on pot-smoking felons, shiftless drifters, and college dropouts! And you think they'll vote for _cops_?!"

"Very nice, Lisa," Jason replied snidely. "You managed to bring race into it without actually using the word. Your party's getting very good at that."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Jason," Lisa replied petulantly, "DC Gates is black. This isn't about race."

"It's always about race!" Jason replied, standing toe-to-toe with his opponent. "And opportunity. And equality."

"And growth," Lisa fired back, poking him in the chest. "And safety. And values."

" _Safety_ and _values_ ," Jason sneered as he reached out to catch Lisa's hand and stop the pokes. "The politics of fear. What's the matter, used that approach to whip up a frenzied mob and then lost your figurehead? It's a little late to find a suitable engine for that runaway train, don't you think?"

" _You're_ going to talk to _me_ about being rudderless?" Lisa seethed. "You rigged your own damn primary to pick your leader! How'd that work out for you?" she asked with sarcasm as she tried to tug her hand free of his grasp.

"At least we picked someone who was actually in our party!" Jason laughed in reply. "Your little demagogue hijacked your entire process! Appropriate," he laughed, "that the business party fell to a corporate raider. Is he going to sell off the assets now that the merger's complete?"

Standing there panting, indignant and irate, Jason and Lisa stared at each other, fuming. Until the sound of laughter captured their attention, both of them turning toward the sound to see Castle, sitting alone at the table.

"You remind me of Beckett and me," Castle chuckled, "in the early years. Be careful, or you might actually find yourselves becoming friends."

"With her?" Jason asked, releasing Lisa's hand and taking a small side-step to put some distance between them. " _Never_ gonna happen."

"That'd make you Beckett," Castled nodded to himself, still amused.

"Speaking of Captain Beckett," Lisa asked while visibly trying to regain her composure, "where is she?"

"They both left a while ago," Castle answered with a grin. "Somewhere around the 'who'd vote for cops' discussion. They thank you for your interest and for the penetrating insight into the functionality of our political parties. They'll contact you after giving your respective offers the consideration they deserve," he concluded with a bland smile to match the clear dismissal.

Both visitors grumbled as they moved to collect themselves to take their leave while Castle stood and walked around the table to see them out.

"Two last things," he added nonchalantly as they approached the door. "First, a word of advice from Beckett. She suggests that you _learn how to_ _compromise_ ," he relayed with a grin, enjoying their pursed lips and stony looks.

"Second, a word of advice from me. There's a hotel down the block, just around the corner," he gestured with one hand while he held the door open with the other. "Take it from someone who knows – waiting just increases the chances of misunderstandings or pride getting in the way."

Their looks grew even stonier in response, which pulled a chuckle from Castle as he closed the door behind them. Still, he peeked through the window and chuckled again when he saw Lisa nod in the direction of the hotel and Jason fall into step beside her.

His laughter ended with a squeak as he turned and found himself facing Beckett and Gates, both standing with arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"I don't remember asking you to convey any advice on my behalf," Beckett said while stalking toward him, raising a hand aimed toward his ear.

"You would've if you'd stayed," Castle tried to reply confidently, though he was nervous about her approaching hand.

His fears proved unfounded as her hand cupped his cheek rather than tugged his ear. "You're quite the romantic," she teased. "' _The hotel's that way_ ' – just what every young girl dreams of hearing someday."

"Well, _that_ girl seemed to be okay with it," he replied with a bashful smile and a shrug. "Besides, who says it's about romance? I just sent a Capulet and a Montague for a tryst in a hotel that _always_ has paparazzi lingering outside or in the lounge. Tomorrow's headlines should be spicy!"

"Yeah, especially if they interview their spouses," Beckett answered, shaking her head in dismay as she tapped his cheek and stepped away.

"They have spouses?!" Castle asked, looking genuinely scandalized. "That's horrible!"

"You didn't know they were married?" Gates asked. "But, you _did_ know about the paparazzi in that particular hotel. I wonder why that might be?"

Castle laughed uncomfortably, feeling guilty about his naïve matchmaking but also glad to see Gates trying to tease him. But Beckett's blush was the more interesting reaction.

"Oh, my," Gates chuckled while looking at her running mate. "There's _another_ reaction we're going to have to learn how to temper before you have many more press conferences."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.

* * *

 **November**

"Lanie? It's Rick," Castle introduces himself early the next morning, trying not to sound panicked when his friend finally answers her phone.

"Castle?" Lanie groans, fumbling with her phone. "It's, like, four hours since you left the Haunt and about two since I left the victory party. Is this how it's gonna be?" she grumbles as Castle hears more background noises that make him think she's sitting up in bed. "My best friend gets elected as leader of the free world as I don't get to sleep?"

"Sorry, Lanie," Castle apologizes tightly, "but we need you to come over. Please. There's a delivery guy on his way to your place now with coffee and donuts. Bring those with and anyone who sees you arrive will just figure you're here for a celebratory breakfast."

"Castle, what's wrong?" she asks, suddenly sounding more alert.

"Just hurry, Lanie," he answers in a low tone, clearly trying to put up a brave front. "Hide it in a bag or dump the donuts and use the box, but bring your medical kit, too. Please, hurry."

* * *

 **The Previous Night**

"… _That's right_ ," the disgraced former member of outsider's party said almost gleefully, thrilling in her role as an independent expert, " _The Beckett/Gates ticket virtually guaranteed that my candidate… sorry, the candidate of my former employer, will win the presidency_."

" _Lisa, I think you're talking about a relatively obscure point_ ," her co-host said while trying not to look confused himself, " _especially since they're leading the popular vote based on early returns. Why don't you explain to our viewers what you mean_?"

" _Unlike any elections in living memory, and probably longer_ ," Lisa hedged, not having done her homework and needing to speak in generalities, " _we have a situation where a third-party candidate is receiving significant votes. But here's the problem – the Constitution of the Unites States requires a majority. Assume that Beckett and Gates win a plurality but not the majority of the popular vote. And assume they do the same with the electoral votes. Do you know what happens then_?" she asked, looking at her co-host rather than the camera.

" _Why don't you tell the viewers at home what would happen in that circumstance_ ," he dodges, flushing with embarrassment and anger at having been put on the spot.

" _If that happens, then guess who elects the president_?" Lisa asked, drawing out the suspense (and the co-host's discomfort). " _The House of Representatives! The delegation from each state gets one vote_ ," she described succinctly, gleefully. " _And guess which party currently controls the House_?"

"Is that right?" Hayley asked, setting her lager on the table and turning to face Beckett and Castle.

"Yes," Beckett confirmed. "It's hardly a new insight, but it's accurate."

" _Mental_ ," Hayley repeated her assessment of the US political system. "And these Housing people wouldn't vote for you?"

"Technically," Gates interjected, "they can vote for anyone. "So, the candidate with the lowest vote total in the popular election could end up as president. It's not a scenario anyone ever expected to happen, but then again, no one expected that a presidential candidate could win the popular vote but lose the electoral vote," she finished with a shrug.

"Really?" Hayley asked again, certain that her American friends were messing with her. "So if two candidates split everything but don't get more than half, then the tosser third guy could be your president?"

"In theory," Castle said in support of Gates' civics lesson. "There are some who think that'd cause a Constitutional crisis. But the House doesn't have to follow the popular vote, though each state delegation could choose to do so."

"I should've known, way back at the beginning," Beckett lamented as she chucked her husband on the shoulder, "that your crazy idea would lead to anarchy."

"Anarchy?" Esposito weighed in from his spot at the table. "This's been the best election ever! I actually voted this time," he said virtuously, holding his beer bottle aloft in salute before taking a large swig.

"More than once, I hope," Gates grumbled. "We could use the help."

"Who says I voted for you?" he answered with a smile that curdled as Gates turned her full attention on him.

"Voting for my opponent so I can get back to my oversight of your precinct," Gates asked, "and its budget?"

"Kidding," Esposito replied weakly while the others at the table enjoyed a laugh at his expense. "Just kidding. I didn't really vote."

That confession resulted in a round of boos and napkins aimed in his direction, but Beckett sat back and nodded at her old teammate, letting him know she didn't believe him but appreciated the diversion.

A cheer from the other side of the room went up and caught everyone's attention. One of the main networks projected a win for them in New York, a key electoral state and the home off all three candidates. As the cameras shifted in their direction, Beckett and Gates rose to meet them, leaving the table to make their statements and thank their supporters. The others at the table sent them off with waves and salutes, impressed by the way they both engaged with the media.

Beckett and Gates returned to the table ten minutes later, still holding up well but clearly fatigued.

"… so we're calling him Monica," Esposito laughed, "and LT told them that if he didn't learn to keep his mouth shut, we'd cram him into a blue dress."

Though she realized it would probably be best to pretend that she hadn't heard, Beckett couldn't help her response. "Demming?" she asked, surprising those around the table.

"Uh, maybe?" Esposito replied, trying to provide some cover. Well-versed at trying to dodge his wife's inquiries, Castle just shook his head at the rookie maneuver.

"Right. If we've dealt with Meredith's vocal claims, Tom's are no big deal," Beckett said as she came around to stand behind Castle.

"What?" he replied, surprised. "We're just talking about them now? I think I prefer the old way, when we just ignored our mistakes."

"It was easier to ignore them before they were so loud," Beckett replied with an exasperated grin, letting her hands fall on her husband's shoulders. "At least Gina and Josh have been quiet."

"Are you kidding?" Castle asked, incredulously. "Gina _loves_ you. This campaign has made her truckloads of money on the sales of my books. She's just bent that I'm not writing now. She's fooled herself into thinking that I'm working on some political thriller, but we're not gonna bother to correct that notion for a while," he laughed.

"Okay," Beckett agreed. "And as for Josh, he might not even be in the country."

"Good," Castle couldn't help but reply, even after the years since he was around.

"And on that note," Beckett said as she looked up and around at everyone gathered around the table, "I'm going to borrow my husband. Back in a bit."

" _Busted_ ," Ryan said in a low voice as Castle rose from his chair, others at the table hearing the comment and giving a laugh.

Beckett led Castle to a corner booth, from which some tired staffers retreated to provide them a limited sense of privacy. Castle stopped next to the booth to wait for her to sit, but a flirty hip-check knocked him toward the banquette first. Smiling, she sat across from him with a perched brow.

"I know, I know," he said, looking contrite. "Josh is long gone. I just can't help myself sometimes…"

"Hey," she said sternly, reaching out with both hands on the table as she waited for him to reciprocate. "Your comment was just a convenient excuse to break away. I needed some Castle time."

"I'm here to serve," he answered quickly and happily.

"You always have been," she answered while caressing his hands. "Even before I recognized it. Some detective, huh? There you are, bringing me coffee every day, and…"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ ," Castle interjected, squeezing his wife's hands. "Don't let my little Josh digression bring us down, especially tonight. It's like you said at the press conference – we found our way to each other in our own time and in our own way," he repeated, smiling at her shy reaction to his evident pride in her comments. "I still love our story. Even with this crazy chapter you added," he laughed as he nodded to the room at large, unwilling to pull his hand away to gesture.

"Yeah," she replied, squeezing his hands a bit tightly. "That * _I*_ added," she repeated, giving him a look honed over the course of nearly a decade. He at least had the good grace to look abashed, if not contrite. "Actually, that's a good lead-in to the other thing I wanted to discuss."

"Uh oh," Castle replied, mostly joking. "This sounds serious."

"Exactly," Beckett agreed, nodding. "Serious. That's what I realized. You were serious, back when you talked with Maya and suggested my candidacy. You made it sounds like you were thinking out loud, but it was actually something you'd thought about," she ended as a statement, not a question.

"Uh, maybe?" he asked, forgetting his reaction to Espo's earlier, similar attempt to avoid an inquisition. When his wife gave him the look that let him know she'd wait for a real answer, he confessed. "Of course I'd thought about it. And with good reason," he added proudly, again nodding at the bustling activity outside of their bubble. "What gave me away?"

"Remember when we were in LA on Royce's case, that night in the hotel room?" she asked, looking at him intently.

"As if I could ever forget that night," he admitted, eyes going a little hazy.

"You pulled me out of my funk. Woke me up," she confessed, "in _several_ ways. You made me smile when I thought I couldn't, just by praising my ' _hotness_.'"

"I've always been quick to note the obvious," he said, praising and deriding himself at the same time.

"You've never made me question your opinion of me," she replied, squeezing his hands again and using a tone of voice that lets him know she's serious. "And whether it's just us or you're talking to anyone else, you've always been my advocate. So," she explained, rounding to her conclusion, "I wasn't surprised when you praised me to Maya and her audience. But you didn't say one word about my looks."

Castle looked ready to interject, so Beckett shut him down. " _On purpose_. You didn't want to minimize me, make the focus about my looks rather than my skills, right?" she asked rhetorically, noticing him look down. "It would've been very easy to ignore your comments as those of an infatuated husband. But you made it real," she praised, smiling at his deep blush. "I've looked and looked, but I haven't found any kind of example where a husband's decision to _not_ praise his wife was so meaningful," she confessed with teary eyes and a low voice. "Or so loving."

"You make it easy," he said with a shrug as he slowly lifted his head to look at her, shy grin in place.

The flash of a nearby camera ended their moment, reminded them of where they were and other demands for their attention. But Beckett had one last thing to say before the re-entered the fray.

"Whether we win this election or lose," she promised, "we'll do it together. Right, Castle?"

"Like you could get rid of me now," he replied. "Even with the Secret Service at your beck and call."

"C'mon, Castle," she said, using their linked hands to pull him out of the booth. "Let's go see if they're gonna get a new boss. But, first things first. Let's give the press a better picture than the one they just took," she said with a leer, reeling him in for a blistering kiss.

* * *

 **November**

"Hey, writer-man," Lanie calls to Castle as she emerges from his bedroom, "she wants to see you."

"She's okay, right?" Castles asks nervously, breaking from the rut he was wearing in the floor of the lounge. "Too much stress?"

"She'll be fine," Lanie assures her nervous friend, cutting him a look of exasperation, "if her husband ever gets off his tail and goes in to see her."

"Right," he replies quickly, moving quickly into his bedroom. He's almost past her when he skids to a halt and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Lanie," he whispers.

With a gentle shove to his shoulder, she propels him towards his bedroom. " _Go_!" she chuckles as she pulls the door closed behind him.

Beckett's sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard when he enters, but Castle doesn't make it more than a few steps before she speaks.

"This is all your fault," Beckett growls, staring at her husband in shocked disbelief as she repeats her charge from early last night. "We wouldn't be in this situation if you could just control yourself!"

Suffering from a strange sense of déjà vu, he's not quite sure what he did, but he's sure he'd better make his wife happy. She's had a brutal several months, so he shouldn't be surprised that the lack of sleep, constant travel, and general stress have finally caught up with her. She looks wan, just as she did he awoke.

Wait a minute, he thinks to himself, studying his wife anew. She's still looking pale, but she's also working hard to guard her expression. Could it be?

"It's not like you were uninvolved," he replies, feeling more confident in his answer as he smiles and walks towards his wife, sitting beside her on the bed and reaching out to rest a hand low on her stomach. "And look, it's not really that big of a deal…"

"Not that big of a deal?" Beckett challenges with a raised brow, covering his hand with her own.

"It'll be fun, right?" he asks, radiating joy as he looks at her. "Just another little detour for our plan."

"I was supposed to be a _president_ , Castle," she replies while sounding awed. "Not a mom."

"You'll be both," Castle assures, Beckett finally nodding in confirmation before pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

A short knock precedes Lanie's head popping through the door and into their room. "Discussing names for my god-daughter?" she asks with presumption and wishful thinking.

"Not quite that far yet Lanie," Beckett replies. "Still trying to process the idea. And the timing. Castle," she asks, dropping their light tone and starting to grow visibly nervous. "How the hell are we gonna do this? The next four years were already impossible and now we'll have a baby, too?"

"We'll be fine," Castle assures her with confidence he doesn't quite feel, though Lanie's nod helps. "Good thing I can be a stay-at-home dad, eh?"

"And you've done this before," she adds, clearly reminding herself. Just as she's starting to look more comfortable, her expression curdles. "Oh, God," she groans, "I'm gonna catch so much crap for this. All those men who thought a woman couldn't be president and now I'm gonna take maternity leave in my first term!"

"Kate," Castle says calmly, rubbing her hand. "Those guys would give you trouble regardless. You're a young woman – that's one of the things voters wanted. Young, married woman sometimes start families."

"Castle's right, Kate," Lanie adds, and only because they're trying to encourage Beckett does Castle refrain from strutting about the affirmation. "Anyone who has a problem with you being a woman will always find something to complain about. But this way gets me a beautiful baby to spoil rotten," she says happily, looking forward to spending time with her new niece or nephew.

"Besides," Castle piles on while Beckett's still rolling her eyes at Lanie, "nobody'll pay the complainers any attention. Don't you remember how excited everyone was for Will and Kate? This is gonna be so much bigger," he says delightedly, with Lanie nodding in agreement. "Forget the royals. We're gonna have a presidential baby, Beckett!"

"We are," Beckett answers slowly, with smile unfurling. "We're having a baby, Castle!"

"Yeah," he laughed, "we sure are," he repeats in quiet awe, returning his attention to her abdomen.

"That's my cue to leave," Lanie chuckles. "Enjoy your news, but hold it tight. You won't show for a while yet, Kate, so you've got some time while you decide when and how to share the news. Now, if I remember correctly, you've got staff showing up in almost an hour," she says with waggling eyebrows. "You'd better get busy."

"That's how we got here, Lanie," Castle ripostes, earning a swat from his wife. With a laugh, their friend sees herself out of the loft.

"You were right, Castle," Beckett says as she turns to him and starts playing with his shirt. "Our life together certainly isn't boring. Now," she said, leaning forward, "why don't we make it more exciting for the next half hour?"

"Next stop," Castle says gleefully as he lets his own hands start to wander, "the Lincoln Bedroom!"

* * *

A/N: I know, I know. Completely unrealistic. Still, it was a fun thought experiment and I get a kick out of Beckett having to deal with Congress in addition to Castle. And a newborn in the White House? That could be good fun: a sleep-deprived president, Lanie hitting on Secret Service agents while she visits, and Castle in a place where he could cause mischief on a global scale.

Apologies to readers outside the US for whom this might've a bit of a weird digression into electoral politics. For those of you in the US, Happy Labor Day.


End file.
